AN: I'm sorry. I really am. Two reasons – Chemistry and Whipped Cream Vodka. But…
Hermione woke up starring at the same ceiling she fell asleep looking at; lace, diamonds, and elegance. She started to pick herself up off the floor when she realized that she wasn't alone. She wasn't even lying by herself. She was nearly morphed into the side of Malfoy. Yet, their underwear was still fully intact. That made the situation even more awkward.
Oh Merlin. What had she done? How could this have happened? Business partners did not randomly fall asleep together. Well for starters business partners didn't often have sex to make children either. This situation wasn't normal; this situation was epically fucked up; and she knew how to fix it. But the deal had to go through first, and then it would be over.
Hermione tried to erase every thought in her head, pressing her face back into Malfoy's arm. But they kept crawling through her head, at a horribly rapid pace. She felt her heart speed up; and almost simultaneously Malfoy awoke. His heart had started to race pulling him from an almost impossibly deep slumber.
He glanced over at the figure that was pressed into his side, and watched as her eyes popped open. The sincere silence that covered the room the previous night had flown out the window; the only think that was left was the bloody silence and it was bloody awkward.
Hermione stood quickly and went to reach for her pile of clothing, tossed casually along the floors. As she grabbed her dress; Malfoy started cackling. Cool winter light had started to flood into the large bay windows; the fire was still roaring (no doubt because of the house elves); and Malfoy sitting on the couch in the same satin boxers.
"Why do you get so bloody nervous Hermione? I mean I already agreed to your proposition, didn't I?" He said starring less at her and more at the fire.
She looked at the sweater dress in her head and promptly dropped it back to its original resting place on the floor. Hermione slowly walked over and sat back down on the floor besides the floor. She could do this. She could follow through with the deal and end all the awkward. She could fix the situation she just needed to be pregnant first.
Malfoy quickly joined her. But this time was different, it wasn't like before. It was rough; she raked her nails down his back. He pulled her hair. She ground her teeth. He curled his toes. Her eyes had a coldness too them, a coldness that wasn't known to her. A coldness that was too much like Malfoy. But his seemed to soften. Blame it on the light, but the dark grey lightened. They weren't as sharp as always.
It was quick, like teenagers with repressed sexual tension. As Malfoy's heart beat started to slow he couldn't help but notice how quickly Granger walked away. She all but jumped up, dressed and apparated away.
That's when he remembered. This was a business arrangement. This wasn't some replacement for Astoria. There would never be another Astoria. Hermione was her own person, and he didn't want Astoria.
This wasn't about him; it was about some non-existent child, his child. That was foreign concept, something that he was supposed to put in front of himself. How did people do that? Well Malfoy's didn't. His father had never once put him first. His father put Voldemort and alcohol first. Draco had always been the obnoxious ferret that followed him around.
Did he want his child running around not thinking that he cared? Could he let Granger raise a Malfoy? It sure as hell wouldn't turn out like a normal Malfoy? But he wasn't exactly the perfect Malfoy, and Malfoy's weren't fucking perfect no matter what his father preached at him. They were racist suckers.
Maybe it would be better if he never saw the freaking brat. Yep, that was the best course of action. Malfoy conjured plaid pajama pants, grabbed a bottle of fire-whiskey off his corner bar and laid down on the couch. His position wouldn't change for the next thirteen hours. And even then, all he did was roll off the couch, as a liquor induced stupor shifted his balance.
Hermione apparated home as quickly as she could, she didn't need to be there any longer. There weird twisted stance on each other needed to end. But more than anything, she hated the feeling she got when Astoria came around. She hated her without a bloody reason in the world. Hermione Granger hardly hated anyone, but Astoria Greengrass had just joined that small population.
Hermione showered quickly after arriving back to her flat, it was nice to have the thick musky smell gone; replaced with the soft smell of coconuts, even though it wasn't even half as appealing. She made herself a small lunch, and made plans to shop with Ginny.
That night, Malfoy passed out on the floor, looking down at a few square inches of carpet; an empty bottle of whiskey in his hand, and depression in his mind. Hermione fell asleep on her bed, her heart beat slowed, and a cold feeling in her stomach.
Nothing really made sense anymore, nothing really mattered. What were galleons? What were ministry jobs? What were they next to a non-existent child?
AN: I know it's short, Sorry. But I really love all your reviews :)